


Leverage

by orphan_account



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7712266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick Flag makes a tactical error.</p><p>And now there's a second chapter, since tactical errors tend to be cumulative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rick makes a poor life choice.

Rick Flag knows he’ll never be as sharp as Amanda Waller; never know people like her; never know what buttons to push to make people do what she wants. She takes a scalpel to people’s psyches and takes them to pieces as easy as breathing. On the subject of Floyd Lawton, though, he thinks he has her beat. At the end of the day, it’s not his daughter that’s Lawton’s great weakness; it’s his pride. You could threaten his daughter and more than likely you’d end up with a bullet through your skull. On the ground, though, when it’s you and him and your back is against the wall, or you need him to do something that he has sworn he will not do - you get his pride to work against him. Verbal sparring’s all very well but Rick knows that a shrug will work just as well. A shrug and a blank expression. Wounded pride’s not just about feeling you’ve been slighted; it can come from being ignored as well. It’s almost amusing to watch Lawton smash himself against the jagged edges of Rick’s indifference. Lawton’s got a fast mouth on him but when you don’t talk back, it’s useless. Takes his power away. Lawton hates feeling helpless. Makes him furious. Makes him effective.

Of course, this is all a continuation of what had happened at Midway City - they’re still fighting for dominance over the other, but Rick’s changed tactics. Rick watches Lawton out of the corner of his eye as he praises everyone else but him. Or when Lawton does something that he can’t ignore, he only gets the mildest of praise. After one particularly bored,  
“Yeah, great work, Deadshot-” Lawton turns on him and snarls,  
“C’mon, man -”  
“What are you expecting, a parade?” Rick raises an eyebrow, trying not to smirk.   
“Fuck you.” Deadshot storms off - not too far away, because the man he’s just sworn out still has the remote in his hand - but enough to show how he feels about the whole thing.  
Harley, who’s back with them - Belle Reve should have a revolving door, just for her- prances up and puts her hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, annoyed.  
“Aww, Ricky. Stop being so mean.”  
He rolls his eyes at her.   
“Just doing my job. I don’t need to shower that asshole in praise every time he manages to put a bullet through something. He’s the guy who never misses, right?”  
“You need to acknowledge him. He’s got needs too.”  
“I’m sure he does.”  
Harley’s eyes glimmer; Flagg’s come to recognise it as the sign she’s dropping the crazy sexy clown act.   
“You praise everyone but him. We’ve all noticed,” she says. “Even Boomer. And I guess people are trying to work out why. He’s worth a dozen Boomers or Crocs.”  
“Now you’re being mean.”  
“I know. Aren’t I good at it? And I haven’t even started yet.”  
“I’m all ears.”  
He is genuinely curious. Dr Harleen Quinzel was a respected psychiatrist - that woman is not gone, but rather submerged in whatever Harley Quinn’s got going on now.  
“You’ve found a way to hurt him, so you’re hurting him. You’re hurting him because you know he’s better than you. He knows he’s better than you, which is why threatening him doesn’t work. He wants your hate, or your rage, or something. He wants your attention, and you’re not giving it to him.”  
Rick shrugs. Working with Amanda Waller means that you develop a thick skin, and Harley isn’t wrong. Lawton is better than him; a better fighter, quicker in the mind and has talked himself into believing himself that he’s Rick Flagg’s moral superior. Hell, maybe even the latter part’s true.   
“An attention-seeking hitman? Doesn’t seem like the type.”  
“Sociopath, remember? Big ego.”  
“So now that you’ve worked it all out, are you going to tell him?”   
“Nah. It’s kind of funny watching him get angry. He’s cute when he’s grumpy. Don’t you think?”  
“Can’t say I have.”  
His headset crackles to life, and a stream of orders flood in.

About two hours later, Rick is looking at a furious Lawton and wondering if this is how he dies. They’re waiting on evac; got separated from the rest of the team and are now holed up in some shitty bunker in the middle of nowhere. Lawton could blow his brains out - he’d get all of 10 seconds of satisfaction before Waller pulled the trigger on him - but from the way the man’s acting, Lawtown would take it. But that seems to be far from his mind.   
“I did good, man-” Lawtown is practically snarling. “Go on. Say it. I saved your ass.”  
“You did your job.”  
“Fuck you,” Lawton’s getting in his face. What he’s saying is true. Rick’s got a rib cage like a box of matchsticks and a long gash across his face. Missed his eye by a breath. Pretty sure his ankle’s twisted as well. Evac eta: two hours. Two hours of this. Rick is tired; he doesn’t get the nice nap on the trip over here, or even a decent night’s sleep beforehand. Before every one of these missions he has to be briefed by Waller and that’s it’s own special brand of hell. They won this time, but barely. Waller will be on the warpath for the inevitable debrief. He’s not sure that he can keep up the facade of indifference. Once Lawton gets a rise out of him, that’s it. He’s lost his power. That can’t happen.   
“Fuck you, asshole, fuck-”  
He’s cute when he’s angry, Harley’s voice said. Only Harley could use that word about Lawton. Lawton’s lean and muscular and yeah, perhaps Rick’s gaze has lingered a little too long. It would be just like Harley to notice that. He’s tired and annoyed, but he’s spent enough time with Waller to understand how to knock people off balance. And the prospect of what he’s offering isn’t entirely unappealing.   
“What do you want, a blowjob?”   
Lawton’s still angry, but seems perversely pleased, because it’s like their first mission all over again. He’s gotten a rise out of Flagg; they’re back on familiar ground. Still, though, Lawton’s not quite himself when he replies,  
“Yeah. What if I do? What if I want you to get on your knees and suck my dick?”  
Rick shrugs.   
“I did offer. Take it or leave it.”  
This is what Rick knows for sure about Lawton; it’s been a very, very long time since he’s been with anyone. Guy doesn’t even masturbate, since there are cameras on him 24/7. And his file has, on record, a verifiable account of a homosexual encounter - the file’s words - about five years before he got caught.   
“I’ll take it, then. Get on your knees, Flagg.” His voice is quiet.   
Rick’s not sure if Lawton actually wants this or if he thinks this is some weird game of chicken. Either way, Rick’s deadly serious. He’ll do it if he has to, and to be honest, might even enjoy it. What it’ll do -hopefully - is calm Lawton down, give him a bit of the attention he so obviously craves, but not in the form he expected. Lawtown wants him to fight back so then he can display his superiority and beat Rick down; he maybe doesn’t want to kill him as much as he wants Rick to know that he’s lost. He didn’t expect submission straight away. 

There are some crates in the corner, which Lawton moves to and sits down. Blood is trickling down Rick’s face and various parts of his body are screaming in pain, but he limps over and kneels at Lawton’s feet. Rick looks up into Lawton’s face and finds the expression oddly hard to read. It’s almost like he’s scared.   
“Not so keen anymore, big guy?”  
Lawton doesn’t reply, just spreads his legs and unzips. Rick shuffles forward, still on his knees, and finds the other man’s cock is half hard. He wants to ask, but doesn’t. That’s not how he plays this game anymore. 

The first lick is tentative; Lawton’s sweaty, but clean. Rick can cope with that. He opens his mouth, leans forward and begins to suck. He’s not great at blowjobs - lack of practice. The urge was there but so was don’t ask, don’t tell and that freaked him out enough to keep him on the straight and narrow, as it were. Besides, most of the time when he went out guys would fall on their knees because army guys were a rare and desired thing. But it’s not really about how good the blow job is, is it? He hums a little around his mouthful; Lawton twitches. Rick does it again and nearly gets choked when Lawton suddenly thrusts forward. It’s obviously been a while, which is good, because it won’t take long. Rick doesn’t want to think of what would happen if he got caught with Deadshot’s dick in his mouth. Lawton’s hands are suddenly in his hair and he jolts forward again, and Rick does gag for real. He pulls back, then uses a combination of hands and mouth to get the job done. And he swallows, because he knows that’ll fuck with Lawton’s head even more. His own erection is annoying but will probably go away once he moves. His face is sticky with dry blood.   
Lawton grabs him by the arms and lifts him bodily onto a crate. They stare at each other. Lawton’s clearly searching for something, anything in his face. Rick hopes to god he’s not giving anything away. Lawton’s hands are still on his biceps; he shrugs them off quickly, and calls into to HQ, asking about how far away that Evac is; 45 minutes now, they got lucky, sit tight, Flagg. Waller doesn’t sound impressed. At least his boner’s gone now. Lawton’s tucked himself away and zipped up, but he’s still right in Rick’s personal space. They stare at each other for a few minutes, before Lawton turns away.  
“I’m going to get some sleep,” he says.   
“Go for it.”  
Lawton doesn’t actually sleep; just sits down and leans back against the wall opposite, eyes closed. They sit in silence until the evac comes.

 

Waller has this thing where she just looks straight into you and finds that one thing you do not want to talk about at that moment.  
“You spent how long in a room with Floyd Lawton and you expect me to believe that nothing happened?”  
She’s not angry; the question’s almost an afterthought as she flicks through his report. After this he’s out of the field until his ribs heal. Back to his empty apartment and a cold beer. June’s at a conference in France. Maybe he’ll go to the supermarket and pick up some really nice steak-  
“Flag.”  
Her voice is quiet, but he can sense her fury. She knows there’s something. He almost tells her, but she dismisses him before he has a chance to answer. As he trudges down the hall he almost laughs at his own pride; he’s not anywhere close to Waller. He’s not sure if he can use what he thinks he knows about Lawton now to help himself, or the squad, or anything at all. All he’s done is thrown them both off balance; it’s his own pride that’s brought them both to this strange place. He overheard some of the Belle Reve guards sniggering about how they’d seen Deadshot giving himself a bit of relief in the shower. It might not be related. Is it his own pride that hopes it might be? He thought he could change tactics, that it was just a tactic to keep one of Waller’s pet murderers in line. But with Lawton it was always personal, always between the two of them, a struggle for dominance. Neither’s pride will tolerate a draw.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Lawton nor Flagg can leave well enough alone. 
> 
> Waller notices, because of course she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest appearances from the Squad. 
> 
> I can't leave well enough alone, either, apparently.

For a bunch of sociopaths, the Squad are now well attuned to each other’s moods. Chato tends to be nominated for pastoral care, since he’s possibly the most compassionate one, or more likely, the one least likely to laugh. So, during a rare quiet moment, he sidles up to Deadshot and asks him quietly what the hell is wrong.  
“Something with your daughter, man?”  
“She’s fine.”  
If she was anything other than fine then Belle Reve would be a pile of rubble and Lawton would be surrounded by a pile of corpses with a smoking hole where his head should be, but Chato’s not quite sure how else to introduce the subject.   
“Something’s not right, though.”  
“Keep out of this.”  
Chato catches Harley’s eye and shrugs.   
“Ok, cool.”  
He tries to give a shit, he really does. But if Lawton doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t and he can just keep being weird. As long as he does his job, right?  
Chato heads back to the small huddle, trying hard to look like they are not in a huddle. Usually Flag would break them up, but he’s been oddly quiet too.   
“I don’t know, guys,” Chato mutters. “Maybe we should leave it.”  
Croc nods. Harley rolls her eyes.   
“Aren’t you even the smallest bit interested?”  
“No,” says Croc.   
“Flag’s been acting weird, too,” Harley says.   
“He’s sad because his girl left,” Chato says. “Overheard some of the boys talking about it.”  
“They keep looking at each other,” Boomer says. He scratches his cheek, frowning.  
“...ok,” Chato says. “We all look at each other all the time.”  
“But not in a gay way.”  
“-the fuck, Boomer.” Croc says. Harley giggles. Chato shakes his head.  
“This is not a conversation I’m having.”  
“Hate the sin, right?” Harley sticks her tongue out at him.  
“Something like that. Also, I don’t need that mental image.”  
“How do you look at someone in a gay way?” Croc sounds genuinely interested.   
“Well, say Lawton is looking at Flag. Flag will notice, ‘cause you can feel someone looking at you, right? And then Flag looks back at him, and they look into each other’s eyes, and then Lawton looks away. It’s like how you do it with a chick you like, right?”  
“I wouldn’t know,” Croc says. “They tend to run away screaming.”   
Boomer has a rare talent for talking through what should, in any other situation, be an awkward silence.  
“I’m just saying they might be a bit gay for each other.”  
Chato hasn’t actually left yet.  
“Lawton was married and Flag’s just broken up with his girlfriend.”   
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Harley says.   
Boomer nods.   
“My uncle was married and got arrested for indecent behavior.”  
“How many times did you get arrested for that, Boomer?”  
“More than that,” Boomer says, proudly. “But not for any gay stuff.”  
“...that’s definitely a mental image I don’t need,” Chato says, and makes a tactical retreat.   
The fates laugh at them, and they are left alone again. Well, they find themselves staring at each other down the end of an alley, right in the middle of a hostile-infested territory. They advance towards each other, cautiously. Rick mutters something, speaks into his radio, and jerks his head towards the main street. He turns, and Lawton has him pinned against the wall, the his hand around Rick’s throat. He could fight back; it wouldn’t go his way, but Lawton wouldn’t be walking out of here. So he tries submission again. Says nothing, stares into Lawton’s eyes. Their faces are close, and the air is acrid with smoke and sweat.   
“Going to say something now, Flag?”  
Rick smiles, closes his eyes, and shakes his head. Then Lawton’s mouth is on his and the hand around his throat tightens, which seems laughably counter-productive. He opens his mouth and lets Lawton devour him.   
They both drop their weapons at the same time; a click and a thud as they hit the ground. Then Lawton’s other hand is down his pants and starting to grasp at his cock. He swallows a moan. The smoke is making his eyes water and stench of their combined sweat is overpowering. It’s too much. But he can’t move, doesn’t want to move. If he tries to get away, Lawton’s won. Lawton’s fingertips are calloused and they drag against his sensitive skin; he winces slightly as the hand wraps around his cock. It’s rough and dry but it’s getting the job done; his legs are shaking beneath him and the sparks of pleasure are coming hard and fast. He knows he’s panting into Lawton’s mouth. The hand around his neck is starting to tighten again. The lack of oxygen is making him light headed.  
“Say you don’t want this,” Lawton snarls. “Say it and I’ll stop.”  
That seems strange; wouldn’t it be more humiliating to leave him on the brink of coming, leave him panting with his dick out for anyone to see? Speaking of, there’s a flicker of movement out of the corner of eye, but Lawton takes the hand off his neck and shoves the side of his face against the wall. There’s silence, and in that silence Rick can hear footsteps retreating. Lawton takes his hand away. The side of his face is grazed from the brick and he can already feel the blood trickling down his face. The hand on his dick hasn’t stopped through all this, and he is close. Lawton’s mouth is back on his and he’s there, his knees are threatening to collapse under him and the pleasure scorches him from the inside.  
With impeccable timing, the radio crackles into life. They’re being called. Lawton releases him; picks up his weapons and heads off, leaving Rick to do up his pants and wait for his legs to start working again.   
Later, Boomer passes around a packet of cigarettes and although, strictly speaking, it’s against regulations, he lets it go. Keeps his eyes off Lawton. But Santana’s staring at him.  
“You got something to say, Santana?”  
The other man shakes his head. His gaze flickers over to Lawton, who is busy talking to Croc and doesn’t appear to notice. 

 

Chato does try to talk to Lawton about it later. Not because he hates the sin or anything, he’s not going to preach. But there are things about it that make him uneasy. His life’s about unburdening his conscience and he doesn’t want to leave these things unsaid. The squad’s his family now. It’s rare moment that he gets Lawton alone and says,  
“You know it’s wrong, man. Whatever’s going on between you and Flag.”  
Lawton stares at him, and Chato feels the rage in the other man rising.  
“Snitch then. Tell Waller.”  
“Fuck you, man. I’m no snitch. But you know-”  
“Like I give a shit about what you think.”   
Chato’s not walking away this time.   
“It’s not just the gay thing. I leave the judgement to God. But you know he walks away at the end of all this, right? He’s a free man. You may have had his back to the wall but he’s the man who’ll blow your head off and then go have a cold beer afterwards.”  
“I know that.”  
“But do you feel it, man? He’s taking advantage. He’s using his power over you to get what he wants.”  
Lawton snorts.  
“Did he look like he wanted it?”  
He freezes. The implications of what he’s just said hang between them.   
“That’s fucked up,” Chato murmurs, and shakes his head. “This is the last thing I’m gonna say about it.”  
“It’s none of your godamned business-”  
“Look, man,” Chato holds his hands up. Let people make their own roads to hell. “All I need to know now is if you’ve still got my back after all this.We good?”  
Lawton looks hurt now, which is, for Chato, worse than the anger.   
“Yeah. Sure.”

Rick isn’t sure how Waller found out. He doubts Santana squealed. But she knows.   
“Do you know who the great love of the Joker’s life is, Flag?”  
He knows this is rhetorical.  
“It sounds crude, but it’s Batman. Harley’s something he’s fond of, but Batman’s the reason he gets up in the morning. And the reverse is true. It will never get sexual, but the emotional attachment…”  
“I get what you’re saying, Ms. Waller.”  
“Is that how you want to end up? Staring Floyd Lawton down for the rest of your life? Living for those moments when the frustration and hatred boil over into a furtive sexual encounter?”  
He says nothing. Waller will be relentless until he says her piece.   
“You’re not the sort of man who can back down from a fight. In fact, if this goes on, you’ll learn to love it. After all, isn’t it all you’ve got right now?”  
Of course she knows that June left him. June had felt so small in his arms, so fragile - but still. She was his anchor to a life he could live outside this place.  
“Lawton has his daughter,” Waller says. “So whatever is between you will be as Harley Quinn is to the Joker - a distraction until his real love comes back.”  
“He might never get out,” Flag says, and regrets it immediately.  
“Maybe not. But it won’t change anything.”  
“Are you firing me?”  
She smiles.  
“No. But you can leave, if that’s what you want.”  
A dismissal. He goes home; looks at the half empty whisky bottle and decides against it. He wants to call June, but respects her too much to cry down the phone at her, pleading for her to return. Does he love her or love what she represents? He remembers Lawton’s mouth on his; the memory of June’s kisses is already starting to fade.

All weaknesses can be leveraged; the day Dr. Moone left Flag Amanda Waller was sure she’d lost her hold over him. But she caught a single look between Lawton and Flag, a flicker of the eyes, and if she wasn’t deceived, an intake of breath. She extrapolated. Flag confirmed her hypothesis. She’s not sure if he will leave. He has nothing else, or has convinced himself that he has nothing else. But his...attachment, whether love, hate, or lust, to Floyd Lawton may well be a liability that will have to be dealt with, if he stays. He could find a life for himself outside Task Force X - in a world where Superman lived, surely anything is possible - and be effective. People have joked about Belle Reve having a revolving door installed, but those people underestimate her ability to cage people inside their own minds. No one can break those bars for them. Most of the time, they can barely see them themselves.


End file.
